EG02 - The Lost Gardens (7 page)

More than once, Kingston had discussed this dilemma with Jamie, since it was becoming more and more likely—as large parts of the old garden were now exposed—that the expectation of finding more garden artifacts was ebbing quickly. Replacing the missing architectural features, statuary and sculptures with similar antique pieces was out of the question. The cost would be far too prohibitive, even for someone with Jamie’s means. The answer was to replace them, where possible, with replicas. This, in itself presented a time-consuming exercise, having to track down manufacturers on the Internet, attend the occasional auction, and search out catalog companies. On the plus side, if the replicas were stolen they would be relatively inexpensive and easy to replace.

Kingston knew the results would be far from satisfactory but there was at least some comfort in knowing that certain of the better manufacturers, whose designs were based on original pieces from private gardens, stately homes and National Trust properties were made to weather more rapidly than normal. There were other ways of accelerating the weathering and patina heretofore only attained by many years of exposure to the elements. Kingston described one to Jamie: the old tried and true method of aging concrete by applying a blend of sheep manure and buttermilk. Her answer was simple, delivered with a smile: ‘I’ll supply the buttermilk but otherwise, count me out.’

Kingston was looking forward to the coming evening. It was Friday and David Latimer and his wife were invited to dinner at Wickersham. It would be the first time that Latimer had seen the property since the week Jamie arrived in England.

David Latimer was one of those men whose age could be anywhere from forty years to sixty. Grey hair on the one hand; yet evenly tanned skin that was as smooth as alabaster on the other. A fastidious dresser, he wore a double-breasted navy blazer that showed the proper measure of shirt cuff below the four regimental brass buttons on the sleeves. His wife, Arabella, was dark-haired, bubbly and as thin as a wafer. An ascetic diet and too many hours at the gym, thought Kingston, when first introduced. He was soon to find out that she ate like a horse.

A few forkfuls into the main course, the conversation—having exhausted speculation about the skeleton—inevitably found its way around to Ryder.

Latimer glanced across the table at Jamie. ‘Have you come up with any more information about Major Ryder?’

‘No, nothing whatsoever.’ She shrugged, then said, ‘Not that I’ve been really trying.’

‘Nothing turned up in all those hundreds of boxes?’

‘No,’said Jamie, taking a sip of wine.

‘Not even a
photo
?’Arabella piped up. ‘No family pictures?’

Jamie shook her head. ‘No. To tell the truth he’s been about the furthest thing from my mind, of late.’ She glanced at Kingston. ‘There’s been so much to do—Lawrence will tell you.’

Arabella dabbed her chili pepper–painted lips with her napkin leaving a visible print. ‘It would be odd, don’t you think, with several generations of Ryders having lived in this house, if there wasn’t a single photo, some clippings, a scrapbook? Not one?’

‘Bella makes a good point,’ said Latimer. ‘Particularly with the three sons—men, I suppose—being in uniform. It would be unheard of
not
to have photos scattered around the house.’

Kingston swirled the wine around in his glass then held it up to the light. An excellent ’93 Beaune. The rich tawny red reflected a glint off the steady flame of the Georgian candelabra close to him. ‘Unless, at one point, they were all—re-moved,’ he said, pronouncing each syllable.

Latimer frowned. ‘Removed?’

‘Who would have done that?’ Jamie asked, concealing her amusement at Kingston’s posing. ‘And, why, for that matter?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kingston huffed. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

For several moments conversation ceased as knives scraped on plates, wineglasses were topped up and second helpings were offered around the table. Kingston helped himself to more Yorkshire pudding and gravy.

‘Lawrence, when you said “Not yet, anyway,” does that mean that you know something that we don’t?’ asked Latimer.

‘No, David,’ Kingston replied. ‘All I meant was that there could be more to this whole Ryder business than any of us realize. Don’t you think that—’

‘Good heavens!’ It was Arabella who interrupted Kingston mid-sentence. A quizzical look had crossed her face. ‘A thought just occurred to me.’She put a hand up to her mouth.

‘Well?’ asked her husband.

‘No, that would be absurd,’ she said, with a shake of the head.

‘Come on, Bella, what would, for crying out loud?’ asked Latimer.

‘What if the bones belonged to Ryder?’

Jamie started to laugh. ‘That’s an odd way to put it, Bella. You’re suggesting it could have been Ryder’s body in the well?’

Latimer looked confused and glanced at Kingston.

‘I’m sure the police won’t overlook that as a possibility. Frankly, it’s a theory I hadn’t ruled out myself,’ said Kingston coolly.

‘If it was, then …’ Latimer groped for words.

‘Then it raises all kinds of questions,’ Jamie interrupted.

‘The first being, who’s been living in the house all these years, posing as Ryder?’ Latimer shook his head and looked at his wife disdainfully. ‘No, the idea’s patently absurd,’ he said. ‘For starters, Mainwaring identified Ryder’s body.’

‘But suppose the servant was lying. Wouldn’t it be easy to find out?’ Bella asked.

‘How?’ Jamie inquired.

‘Well, just have his body exhumed.’

‘Oh come on, this is
silly
,’ Jamie said, shaking her head.

‘I don’t see why,’ Bella snipped.

Jamie frowned at Latimer. ‘Is that possible, David? Now I come to think of it, we never did discuss his death—the funeral.’

Her question hung in the air for several moments, while Latimer was clearly trying to frame an answer.

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand across his forehead. ‘No, we didn’t, Jamie,’ he said. Then, after a pause ‘And no, we can’t, I’m afraid.’

‘Can’t what,’ asked Jamie.

‘Have him exhumed.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because Major Ryder was cremated.’

Chapter Six

After dinner Jamie offered to show Bella around the upstairs rooms. This gave Kingston the chance he had been hoping for—the opportunity for a private talk with David. There were questions—one in particular—that he wanted to ask that would have been out of the question in the company of Jamie. The last thing he wanted was for her to get the impression that he was nosing into her affairs.

With fresh coffee for Latimer and a cognac for Kingston, the two of them sat across from each other, chairs angled toward the fireplace. For a while he and Latimer talked about the restoration, Kingston briefing him on the encouraging progress they’d made so far and describing some of the structures and features that they had uncovered and were going to rehabilitate.

Soon, the conversation shifted to Jamie.

‘How did you track her down?’ asked Kingston.

‘It took longer than we anticipated because we initially assumed that she was English or British. When we drew a blank with our inquiries, we turned it over to a private investigator. ’

Kingston nodded. ‘I’m not one to be nosy, David, but I’m curious. How is it that Jamie was able to make what appears to be such an easy and rapid transition from her life back in California? I’ve tried to picture myself suddenly thrust in her position and how I would react, what a huge impact it would have on one’s life in general. There’s her job—presuming she had one—her family and friends, her house or apartment, all those things. As I understand it, she made a fairly quick decision to chuck it all up and come over here, thousands of miles away, where she doesn’t know a soul. I must say, for a single woman, it’s damned adventuresome.’

Latimer put down his cup and saucer. ‘As you’ve probably found out already, Jamie is not your typical American. She tends to keep herself to herself. In a way, I suppose, she’s more like us.You know, the stereotypical reserved Englishman or woman in this case. In due course I’m sure she’ll come around.’ He chuckled. ‘With someone as charismatic as you, Lawrence, rather quickly, I would imagine.’

‘Seriously, is she going to be able to afford all this? You and I both know what kind of money it’s going to take.’

Latimer paused for a moment, as if debating just how much of Jamie’s personal information he could pass on. ‘Let me put it this way,’he said. ‘The two of us have spent a lot of time going over the estate’s assets. Early on she gave me a rough idea of what she wanted to do and later she presented me with what I would call a very pragmatic and sophisticated business plan. It not only detailed all the various projects and changes that she was recommending but included their projected costs. The breakdown of the expense estimates was quite extensive and specific. Working with her builder, she produced a timetable and work order list several pages long. I wouldn’t mind betting she’s done this kind of thing before. She’s exceptionally bright, you know.’

‘I’ve already come to that conclusion, David.’ Kingston took time crossing his legs. ‘By the way, what did she do in the States?’

‘You know, she’s been rather vague about that. She just said that she worked in the wine business. She did tell me her father worked for a wine import company, though. Perhaps she did, too. Her parents are both dead, by the way.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Anyway,’ said Latimer, with a slight shrug, ‘just what motivated her to drop everything back there to come over here and take on this challenge, I really can’t say. I’m more than satisfied that she can afford it though, don’t you worry on that score. I don’t know where this Ryder chap got his money from—family money for the best part, I suppose, but somehow he managed to invest it very wisely over the years.’ He chuckled. ‘All I know is that it didn’t come from his army pension.’

Kingston nodded in agreement. ‘Well, the important thing is that the money’s there, right?’

Latimer smiled. ‘Oh, you’ll get paid all right, if that’s what you’re worried about, old chap.’

Kingston returned the smile. ‘Never gave it a moment’s thought, David.’

‘Kidding aside, you’ve a right to ask. You know as well as I do that more often than not the gentry who own these big estates are virtual paupers. Every day there’s another one selling off bits and pieces at auction, flogging cream teas and opening the ancestral pile to the public. Damned shame if you ask me.’

At a pause in the conversation, Kingston got up and prodded the smouldering logs, bringing them to flame, spitting sparks up the chimney. ‘This chap Mainwaring,’ he said, sitting down, leaning back in the overstuffed chair. ‘How long was he with Ryder?’

Latimer took a sip of coffee. It must have been his fourth or fifth cup of the evening but he seemed remarkably relaxed. ‘Can’t be certain—about fifteen years, I believe.’

‘Jamie said that he wasn’t very well liked. “Creepy bugger” I think were the words she said one of the villagers used.’

‘A reasonably accurate description, I would say. Not exactly Prince Charming, that’s for sure.’

Kingston crossed his legs, turning sideways to the fire, which was now throwing off enough heat at trouser cuff distance to toast bread. ‘David, I should mention that Jamie has been quite open with me about her newfound wealth. I’m continually amazed how she seems able to take it all in her stride. Most young women today would have a difficult time adjusting to it all, I would think.’

‘Couldn’t agree more. When I first learned that she was to inherit the estate, I’ve got to admit, I expected the worst. I pictured having to deal with one of those frightful tabloid bimbos with a hundred-word vocabulary.’

Kingston nodded. ‘About the exact opposite, eh?’

‘Yes, thankfully. I think the world of Jamie and I really admire what she’s doing here.’ He smiled. ‘Roping you in, included—and I know that’s no easy task.’

‘She’s quite a saleslady, too. But getting back to this Mainwaring chap, she mentioned that he also received a sum of money from the estate.’

‘He did, yes, a decent amount. Anyway, sufficient to make most people happy.’

Kingston cleared his throat. ‘I know I probably shouldn’t be asking you this but if he was in Ryder’s employ for fifteen years, wouldn’t it be expected that he would anticipate getting a sizeable chunk of the estate when Ryder passed away? Particularly since he would most certainly be aware of Ryder’s having no heirs within the family.’

Latimer was smiling again. ‘Well, since confidentiality as far as Ryder is concerned is no longer a consideration I can tell you that Mainwaring
was
surprised. Not only surprised but very upset.’ He stared into the fire for a moment as if he were choosing his words, then looked back at Kingston. His smile was gone. ‘There’s no reason for you to mention this to Jamie, or anyone else for that matter, but when I read Mainwaring the part of the will that concerned him, it clearly came as a terrible shock to him to learn that Jamie was going to inherit Wickersham. He wasn’t mad or furious—anything like that—it was as if he simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As if there’d been some awful mistake. I remember the long silence that followed when I’d finished. To tell the truth, I was a bit worried at the time because he looked as if he might explode any moment and things could turn nasty. But he didn’t.’ Latimer thought for a moment then sighed. ‘In retrospect, I think it
was
a huge letdown for him.’

‘Did he finally calm down?’

‘Somewhat, but not after accusing me of influencing Ryder. I told him that I’d never met Ryder and that a former partner, who was now deceased, handled Ryder’s affairs. Despite my explaining that there was no doubt or ambiguity to Ryder’s will, he didn’t want to listen to reason. He insisted that he’d been swindled.’

‘He never got violent, though?’

‘No, thankfully. He finally took all the documents and the unopened envelope addressed to him and left.’

‘Envelope? What was that all about?’